


three for the sweet little boy lost

by doctorkilljoy



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Barely Legal, Come Eating, Hand Jobs, Lapdance, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Surprise Kissing, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkilljoy/pseuds/doctorkilljoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Patrick's 18th birthday, and Pete has a surprise in store. And Patrick isn't exactly on board with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three for the sweet little boy lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withinmelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/gifts).



> This is partially based off something that happened to me. Though a lot has been changed to suit the needs of the story. Dedicated to withinmelove who is my bandom wifey and I love her and her enthusiasm. If I forgot to tag something please tell me. 
> 
> Song title is from Kiss the Girls from The Devil's Carnival

Patrick should have known what Pete was up to, or at least had some inkling of it. Pete had been grinning almost non stop, and had bribed Andy and Joe to “find something else to do” for a few hours. Though what he'd bribed them with, Patrick had no idea. They were all broke and in the middle of a tour, which Patrick wasn't sure the van would make it through. But Pete had said it was Patrick’s birthday, so he had something special planned.

It had been a quiet birthday, Patrick had slept in and when he woke up Joe treated him to some Hostess cupcakes. A package of which was still in the pocket of Patrick’s cargo shorts. Andy had taken over driving so that Patrick could laze about. His mother had sung happy birthday over the phone to him, and he was pretty sure she was choking back tears.

“My little boy is all grown up,” she’d said. Patrick hadn't felt anything like grown up. At least until they'd gotten to the venue that night. Patrick had to stop Pete from jumping off the stage like a lunatic and yelled at him after.

When the show was over, Pete had cornered Patrick outside and said, “I'm taking you out.”

“What? No, we've got a long drive in the morning and I wanna get some sleep.”

Pete grinned at that. “Nah, come on man it's your birthday! I've got a surprise for you!”

It was then that Patrick noticed that Joe and Andy were gone, leaving him alone with Pete and the van. “This isn't going to take long is it?”

Pete laughed, and pulled him into the van.

And now they were outside a strip club, and Patrick said, “No.”

“Yes!” Pete replied. “Lucky for you, guess what today is?”

“I’m gonna guess something besides my birthday.”

“Correct! Today is the 10th anniversary of this place opening, so no cover charge! Even better, they don't serve alcohol!”

That didn't sound like something Pete would normally be happy about. “Okay, so?”

“So, that means you can come in!” Pete declared, and he grabbed Patrick’s arm and pulled him inside.

Patrick shook his head, trying to pull away. “Pete I don't wanna--”

“I’m getting you a lap dance,” said Pete, completely ignoring Patrick’s protests.

Patrick looked around, and didn't like what he saw. It looked like whoever had designed the place had intended to make it seem classy. The walls were mirrored, the carpet was red, and there was a brass bar lining the stage. The lights were low, which made the pink neon scattered about the place stand out more. It was like some kind of 80’s music video tribute to a strip club. But the over all effect was that it looked cheesy, not classy.

Ladies in various states of nakedness were everywhere. Scattered about them were middle aged men in flannel and trucker caps, leering at the dancers. Which made Patrick suddenly feel self conscious, given his usual wardrobe. Pete pulled him over to a room with a sign over it that read “VIP Lounge” and gave the man standing in front of it 20 bucks.

“Where'd you get that?” Patrick asked as Pete led him inside.

“I called my mom, she sent me some money for your birthday,” said Pete.

“Motherfucker!” Patrick yelled, glaring. “You got your mom to send money and you're not sharing it with the rest of the band?! Fuck my birthday we could use that! We need a spare tire! Joe’s amp is about to fucking die on us! And have you seen--”

“Whoa! Chill Lunchbox!” Pete said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I asked the guys, they were cool with it.”

“Funny how they're not here to back you up on that!” Patrick shot back.

“Joe’s not old enough yet to be here,” Pete pointed out. “And Andy doesn't like strip clubs. Relax, I'm not that much of an asshole.”

Patrick could think of at least six instances where, yes, Pete was exactly that much of an asshole. But he let it drop, because Pete was getting the “kicked puppy” look on his face. He always did whenever Patrick would go off on him, whether or not he deserved it.

Patrick hated to admit it, but that made him feel guilty. Pete was all right, and was Patrick’s best friend. But he was also infuriating in a way few people could manage without Patrick trying to throttle him. He wasn't sure if it was because of Pete’s charisma, or because he was hot. Probably a combination of the two. Either way, he would never say that to Pete.

Especially not the part where Patrick thinks Pete is hot. That was one secret that Patrick wanted to take to his grave. He knew that Pete was into men as well as women, but Pete was also his best friend. And about a million other things, the most important of which was not interested in Patrick. Platonically and professionally, but not romantically or sexually from what Patrick had observed.

Judging that Patrick’s silence meant he'd won, Pete grinned and dragged him over to a booth. There was a chair that had horrible fuzzy upholstery; it reminded Patrick of crappy carnival stuffed animals. It was a bit itchy, and originally started life red but was white and pink with age. Pete had him sit down in it, and asked, “So what are you in the mood for?”

“Pete I’m not really--”

“They've got a bunch of hot chicks here,” Pete went on. “There's this one chick named Sheba, she's amazing but she's not working tonight.”

“How many times have you been here?” Patrick asked, frowning.

“A few, but they were memorable,” Pete replied, smirking. “So! Do you know what you want?”

“This isn't like ordering a sandwich at Burger King, Pete.” Patrick was still frowning, and he wondered if Pete had lost his mind. “Besides aren't most lap dances pretty much the same?”

Pete scoffed. “You don't know shit about the erotic arts! Here check it out.”

Pete was stalking around the room, trying to look sexy as he eyed Patrick. It should have been ridiculous, but with his smudged eyeliner and tight jeans it was pretty damn hot. He went down on the floor, and crawled over to Patrick. His movements were slow and languid, like a jungle cat that was taking its time with its prey. Patrick couldn't look away, he'd never had Pete’s gaze fixed on him like that before.

When he reached Patrick, he laid his head on his knee and nuzzled him. “See you can go for something like this, slow, real seductive right? Or you can be direct.”

At that, Pete jumped to his feet, and straddled Patrick’s legs. He was grinding down against Patrick, gasping and groaning. He gripped the back of Patrick’s chair, and leaned back. His throat was exposed, and his shirt was riding up, showing off Pete’s pelvic tattoo. Patrick wanted to lick it, to grab Pete’s hips and buck against him. This was torture, but he couldn't push Pete away.

Pete straightened up, smirking and adding, “Or you can be a total tease, like this.” He scooted back and let go of the chair, and then turned around. He was shaking his ass, hugging himself and letting out an occasional girlish giggle. He shimmied closer, his backside just barely brushing against Patrick’s lap.

Patrick gulped, trying to keep from getting hard. His mouth was dry, and he bit his lip to keep from saying anything stupid. He was sweating, and Patrick was sure his face was tomato red. But he cleared his throat, and managed to squeak out, “Uh… Whatever you think works?”

Pete turned around and looked at him, frowning. “Wow, that's real specific.” He looked disappointed, but Patrick couldn't figure out why. “Fine, I’ll pick someone out for you. Maybe she can pull that stick out of your ass.” And with that, Pete left in a huff.

Patrick sighed, and buried his face in his hands. This was quickly going from his best to his worst birthday ever.

He looked up when he heard a sweet, female voice ask, “Are you Patrick?”

She was young, almost too young. Patrick wondered if they were the same age, or worse, if he was older than her. It was hard to tell in the low light, and she was done up like a school girl parody.

Her blonde hair was in pigtails, and she was so thin Patrick was worried she’d break if he breathed wrong. She was very tan, to the point she was almost orange. Her pink lip gloss was a little smeared, the false eyelashes so heavy he was surprised she could see. And her metallic eye shadow stood out in the dark. Her costume was a pink plaid school girl uniform no one would ever wear to school. Complete with frilly knee socks and Mary Jane platform heels.

She was definitely pretty, but not Patrick's type. He couldn't help but wonder what Pete was thinking. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m Patrick,” he said.

“I’m Candy, your friend said its your birthday?” She said, coming closer. “How old are you sweetie?”

“Eighteen,” Patrick replied. “Uh… You?”

She grinned at that, showing off perfect teeth. “However old you want me to be.” Candy was swaying her hips, toying with the front of her blouse. There was music playing somewhere, but Patrick couldn't be sure what the song was. She was dancing for him, and had taken the blouse off, showing a pink bikini top with rhinestones.

“Tell me what you want baby,” said Candy, sitting in Patrick’s lap. “I'm all yours.”

Patrick felt vaguely ill, and he shook his head. “Stop, please just stop.” He was fumbling with his pockets, not finding any money of course. But he found the cupcakes from earlier and offered them to her. “I’m really sorry, I don't have any money and you're pretty and I don't wanna insult you and I feel bad for wasting your time and--”

She cut off his rambling with a small laugh. “It's okay sweetie, you look pretty fucking uncomfortable.” Candy got off his lap, and pulled up another chair. “But you've got me for fifteen minutes, so how about we talk instead?”

Patrick let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I don't know what to talk about but really, thank you.”

“Look, to answer your question from earlier? I’m 20. I work here while I go to school. Lots of guys are into the school girl thing,” Candy said to him. “I blame the sexualization of young girls in a society that places such high value on virginity and purity.”

That made Patrick stare at her. “Uh… Are you like going to school to be a shrink?”

“Political science with a minor in psychology. I can spout feminist theory and ideology all day long. but I get a fuck ton of money dressing like this and calling guys daddy and I ain't about to turn that down.” She was grinning at him now, and Patrick couldn't help laughing.

“I'm not into that,” Patrick said.

“Do you know what you're into? I know it's none of my business but I thought you were gonna throw up when I was on your lap,” Candy pointed out.

Patrick shook his head, pulling on the bill of his cap. “I never thought about it too much? At least not until I started touring with our band, and Pete’s such a sexual person and--” He shook his head again. “I kind of don't wanna talk about it. Listen is there a way I can sneak out of here where Pete won't see me?”

Candy pursed her lips together, then said, “That door there goes out to the parking lot.” She was pointing in a shadowed corner of the VIP lounge, and Patrick got up.

“Thank you so much. And again I’m really sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for sweetie, you go get some fresh air. Anything you want me to tell your friend if he comes looking for you?”

“I’ll be out in the van when he's done,” Patrick said to her.

“Okay, and thanks for the cupcakes!” Candy replied.

Patrick left, relieved when the cool night air washed around him. The door closed, and Patrick headed to the van. He didn't have the keys, Pete had made sure to pocket those. But the back didn't lock all the way, so Patrick had no trouble getting in. He sat among their equipment, closed his eyes and just thought.

He was still picking apart his feelings over Pete, when he heard banging on the side of the van. Patrick opened it to see Pete standing there, and he looked pissed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Pete yelled. “I get you a fucking lap dance and you just fucking bail?!”

“I didn't wanna do it in the first place Pete,” Patrick said, suddenly exhausted. “Can we get Joe and Andy and go now?”

“Patrick what the fuck man?! You were into it!” Pete insisted. “I saw how you were looking when I did it, and Candy is fucking hot! What's your damage?!”

“Candy isn't my type. She's really nice but I don't--” But Pete interrupted again.

“Then who is your type?! Is there anyone who's fucking good enough for Patrick fucking Stump?!” Pete shouted.

Patrick had gotten out of the van by this time, and slammed the door. He saw Pete was working himself up into a full blown fit. He said, “Look I don't want to talk about this here, okay? Can we go and--”

“No! Fuck that! You're gonna fucking tell me right now what the fuck it takes for someone to turn that thick head of yours! Because from what I've seen the only shit that gets you hard is your fucking guitar!”

At that, Patrick shoved Pete and yelled, “Fuck you! I’m not like you okay?! I'm not gonna fucking die without sex! And you know wanna know who turns my head?!”

“Like there is someone!” Pete shot back.

“There is you stupid motherfucker!” Patrick said indignantly.

“Oh yeah? Who’s this miracle person! Because I sure as fuck haven't seen--”

Pete didn't get to finish. Patrick grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the side of the van, kissing him hard. It was a little sloppy, as Patrick didn't have a lot of experience kissing, but that didn't seem to matter to Pete. He was moaning, and throwing his arms around Patrick. When they broke apart, Pete looked stunned, but happy.

“So… Me?” Pete asked, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Duh,” Patrick replied.

“C’mon,” said Pete, taking Patrick’s hand. He pulled Patrick into the van, pushing him into the back seat. Patrick was a bit confused, but then Pete crawled into his lap and they were kissing again. Pete cradled his face with one hand, knocking his hat loose. But Patrick didn't care because this was Pete Wentz kissing him!

Pete ran his tongue along the seam of Patrick’s lips, begging for entrance. Patrick opened his mouth, and groaned when Pete’s tongue plunged in. Patrick wrapped an arm behind Pete’s back, his free hand going to grab his ass. It was too much and too fast, but Patrick didn't care. He'd wanted this since Pete had shown up on his doorstep with Joe.

Patrick was gasping as Pete rocked against him. He could feel Pete was hard, and Patrick was just as aroused. Patrick snapped his hips forward, and Pete pulled his mouth away, saying, “Hang on, hang on.”

Pete was struggling to get Patrick’s pants open, and he muttered, “Fuck this shouldn't be so hard.” But he managed it, his hand slipping beneath Patrick’s boxers to grab his dick.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick exhaled, and shivered.

“C’mon baby,” Pete said, taking Patrick’s hand. He placed it over the bulge in his own jeans and said, “C’mon, fucking touch me.”

Patrick just barely managed to get Pete’s fly undone, and he gasped when he realized Pete wasn't wearing underwear. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah,” Pete was grinning at him, with that same predatory look in his eyes. “Follow my lead.”

Pete kissed him again, and Patrick found it wasn't difficult to mimic his rhythm. They stroked each other’s cocks, kissing and panting against each other. Patrick couldn't believe it was real, but he was still feeling sweaty and gross. His knee was starting to hurt from Pete sitting on him, and so many other little signs. It was real, it was happening.

Patrick gasped, “Fuck Pete, Pete I’m--”

“Me too, fuck just keep moving your hand like that,” Pete told him, hips jumping slightly.

Patrick was pressing up against Pete’s hand, and he sobbed as he came. Pete kissed him one more time, and Patrick felt Pete’s cock shudder. He could feel semen sticking to his hand, and Patrick didn't care because Pete was still kissing him.

They sat there for a few minutes, trying to catch their breath. Then Patrick said, “Fuck this was my last pair of clean underwear.”

Pete laughed, and pulled his hand away. He lapped at the come sticking to it, then said, “You taste good. Always thought you would.”

Patrick felt his cock twitch, and he sighed. “Oh my God…”

Pete shrugged and grabbed a shirt from the back, not paying attention to who it belonged to or if it was clean. He handed it to Patrick so he could clean off. Patrick felt a little guilty as he realized it was one of Andy’s, but he was in need. Pete took the shirt away once Patrick was done, and cleaned himself too.

They'd both adjusted their clothes after, and sat next to each other. Pete leaned his head on Patrick’s shoulder and sighed.

“You're such an asshole sometimes,” Pete muttered.

“Me? You're the one who tried to force a fucking stripper down my throat on my birthday.”

“Most guys would thank me for that.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “So is that what all this was about? You were pissed I wasn't fawning all over you?”

“No, dickhead,” Pete sighed. “It's just… Joe's out there getting laid, and so are me and Andy. And you always kinda stay behind so I was worried.”

"Any particular reason?" 

"Don't punch me but... You bitch about how you're fat and ugly and shit when you aren't. You're beautiful. And I thought maybe if I could show you how gorgeous you are you'd cheer up and chase tail with the rest of us. Maybe get your self esteem up," Pete said. "Also it wouldn't kill you to get laid." 

“And your answer was taking me to a strip club.” Patrick shook his head. “There is a difference between strippers and hookers, you know that right?”

“Yeah. I was gonna get you a hooker for your birthday but Andy said your mom would kill me,” Pete said, pouting.

“She's gonna kill you if she finds out you took me to a strip club, too,” Patrick pointed out.

Pete sat up and grinned. “Nope, she’ll just maim me. I can live with that.”

Patrick laughed. “So now what?”

“Now that we've jacked each other off? You are officially my boyfriend,” said Pete, wrapping his arms around Patrick.

Patrick snorted at that. “You're so fucking weird.”

“You don't wanna be my boyfriend?” Pete asked, sounding hurt. However, he wouldn't let go of Patrick.

“I didn't say that.” Patrick sighed. “Okay, I'm your boyfriend. But on the condition of no more strip clubs, hookers, groupies or anything like that. Okay?”

“Works for me! Okay you're my boyfriend. We should probably go pick up the guys now.” Pete was pretty energetic as he opened the door and hopped out. Patrick followed so he could ride shot gun, and Pete drove them away from the club.

“I got another question for you,” Pete said, and Patrick looked at him.

“What?”

Pete was grinning as he asked, “Did you really give Candy those cupcakes so she'd stop giving you a lap dance?”

Patrick groaned. He would never hear the end of this. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://talkingcinemalight.tumblr.com)


End file.
